Score One For Lilly
by DemetriaFeels
Summary: Lilly finds herself transfixed by a certain braless girl sitting next to her in French class. LillyxMiley Liley One-shot


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana. Or Walmart.**

**Little one-shot that popped into my head. Enjoy.**

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><p><em>Just one more class<em>, I think to myself as I sit down in French class−my third college French, to be exact.

It's my third and final class of my third day of my sophomore year of college. And it's my least favorite on my whole schedule. I hate French. Even after two years of high school French and two previous college French classes, I still don't know what the hell my teacher is saying. And I've yet to find out why a film major _needs_ aforeign language. I mean, editing I get (even though I'm not too fond of that one either), but French?

At least my other classes I can use. Like my editing class, which goes with my film major. And sociology, which is the study of people. I can use that information when I create characters for my novels or movies. Which brings me to my favorite classes−intro to fiction and screenwriting (I'm a creative writing minor). Now _those _are classes which will be useful to me later in life.

I should have taken Spanish. At least then I'd know what the Mexicans are saying about me when I go to Wal-Mart.

More people shuffle into the room. There are a few familiar faces from previous classes, either last year or earlier in the day. Finally in walk my friends from high school, Mikayla and Oliver. They're not hard to spot, Mikayla with her tan skin and raven hair and Oliver with his pale skin and shaggy brown hair. I'd know them from a mile away. I smile and wave them over to show them where I've saved their seats.

They begin to go straight through the other desks instead of going to the front of the room and go down the aisle. They may think they're saving time, but they're just making a hassle for themselves.

"Why don't you just walk around like normal people?" I ask as they sit down in the row beside me.

"We got from point A to point B, didn't we?" Oliver asks in a know-it-all voice.

I sigh and flip my long blond hair over my shoulder. Oliver can be so catty sometimes.

"How's it waking up without me?" I ask Mikayla with a grin. We were roommates last year in a four-person dorm room, and I used to be in charge of waking up her and our other friend Sarah for class. This year I live in a two-person dorm with Joannie, who was our fourth roommate last year.

"It's fine," she says. "In fact, I like it. I feel more responsible." She seems so proud of herself.

I laugh a little at my friend's small sense of accomplishment as our teacher walks in briskly. I've yet to learn her name, just like last semester's French teacher's name (I never did learn it).

"Bonjour," she says, slightly out of breath from her three-story climb on the stairs, no doubt.

"Bonjour," the class says in return.

She asks us a question in French and I let other people in the class answer, because I'm not really sure what she asked anyway. Hell, I'm like one-fourth French. You'd think I'd be better at this. Nope. Completely American.

Luckily, our teacher gives up on the questions and starts to take role. I sit back and get comfortable, knowing my name won't be called for a while. Lilly Truscott. Always takes forever for them to get to my name on the role. I wish my name was Alice Adams or something like that so I'd be first, just to get it over with so I didn't have to pay attention for a little while.

_Random people._

_Mikayla Gomez._

_More random people._

_Oliver Oken._

_Even more random people._

Mikayla's and Oliver's names have gone and went, and I'm still waiting. It's not a big class, either. I'm just really fucking impatient.

"Miley Stewart?" my French teacher asks.

My head, which has been tilted back, snaps to attention. I remember her. She's that cute girl I saw around campus last year, but never knew her name. I learned it on the first day. Sadly, though, it doesn't appear as though she's here today.

"Miley?" the teacher repeats.

"Here!" a musical voice from the back says.

I turn towards the door to see her−Miley−just walking in with some blond guy behind her.

"Great timing, Miley," my teacher says with a smile. At least she isn't uptight about people being exactly on time. "And you are?" she asks the boy.

"Jake Ryan," he says as he follows Miley towards the desks.

Mrs. French Teacher nods and jots something down, I assume a check by each of the names.

"You made us late!" Miley says in a loud whisper to this Jake guy as they make their way down the aisle next to me.

"You're the one who had to stop for Vitamin water!" Jake counters, right on Miley's heels.

"Dude, they were free!" she says as she stops at the desk adjacent to mine.

I chance a glance at her, knowing she's too preoccupied to catch me looking at her. Her hair is cute today, pushed back with a headband while her brown curls hand down her back. And she's wearing red Toms with a floral skirt and a tank top. Though it's a loose-fitting tank, I see that she is not wearing a bra, and she appears to be _cold_−if ya catch my drift.

"Lilly Truscott?"

I quickly look away from the braless girl. "Here!" I raise my hand high in the air.

As class starts, I keep glancing at Miley. Her arms are crossed right under her breasts, supporting them a little and making them look bigger than they did before. This shows off her hardened nipples even more.

I catch the butch lesbian on the other side of Miley sneaking peeks, just like me. I inwardly growl.

_Back off, Butch. She's mine. _Not that I have anything against butches. I'm actually kind of jealous of them. They get all the pretty girls, though I have no clue how. Wouldn't a girl who likes girls actually want a _girl,_ not a girl who looks like a boy? This hurts my self-esteem a little because I think I'm one of the more attractive lesbians. Why I'm single is totally beyond me. Maybe it's because hardly anyone knows I like girls. That must be why butches get all the girls. Everyone knows they're into the V, and not the P, whereas you wouldn't know I like the V just by looking at me.

"It's so fucking cold in here," Miley mutters, leaning forward so Jake can hear.

He turns and gives her a sympathetic shrug before resuming note taking.

I'm not writing anything down, since this is all a review of stuff we covered in high school and though I suck at conversational French, I'm not an idiot, so I do know how to conjugate _manger_ (to eat).

Boldly, I reach over and tap Miley on the shoulder. She turns her attention to me, looking a bit surprised.

"I have a hoodie in my bag, if you're cold," I tell her. "You're welcome to it." I can't help it. My eyes flash to her chest, her nipples still obviously hard. Oh yeah, she's cold. It's only for a second my eyes leave hers, but when I look back, I can tell she's caught it.

"Sure, thanks," she says, giving me a knowing smile, and for the first time, I notice she has a Southern accent. I wonder where she's from.

I can feel my face heating up as I slide my hand into my bag and pull out my jacket. I hold it out for her. She grabs the edge of it.

"_Tu rougis," _she tells me. _You're blushing._

I swallow and nod. "_Oui, je rougis," _I say. _Yes, I'm blushing_.

I let go of the garment. Miley smiles at me as she slips her arms into it, but she leaves the front unzipped. Her bralessness is still showing this way. I can't help thinking she's teasing me a little… And I kind of like it.

"Merci," she says.

I give her a small smile before turning my attention back to the front of class. Actually, I'm just pretending to pay attention. I'm really watching Miley out of the corner of my eye.

She looks so cute in my jacket. It makes me wonder what she'd look like in some of my other clothes. For example, my cute little pajama shorts that don't even reach my mid-thigh. And maybe topped off with my red pullover. I'm sure she'd be adorable. And I can see her, sitting cross-legged on my unmade bed, her hair a mess−sex hair.

_Oh, why does she have sex hair? Now you're just being naughty, Lilly. You turned an innocent thing like loaning a girl a jacket to her being your fuck buddy. Good job. And you know what? You're a virgin. So shut up._

The sound of books being slammed shut pulls me from my thoughts.

Class is over already? Well shit. Where did the time go? Probably in the gutter, along with my mind.

I stand and follow Oliver and Mikayla from the room.

"Hang on, guys," I tell them as they start to retreat down the hall. "I gotta get my jacket from that chick."

"Oh, right. That _chick_." Mikayla raises her eyebrows at me, laughter in her brown eyes. She obviously picked up on my slight crush. I probably would have noticed her watching me had I not been so interested in Miley.

I glare at Mikayla and am about to flip her off when I feel someone tap my shoulder from behind. I turn and see Miley standing there. It's the closest I've ever been to her, and in the better light of the hallway, I can see that she has gorgeous blue-green eyes. I wonder what she thinks of my own deep blue eyes.

"Thanks," Miley says, holding out the jacket. "It's Lilly, right?"

"You're welcome." I take it from her. "And yes. I'm Lilly."

"Well, Lilly, I owe you one." She smiles. "Guess I'll see you Friday?"

I nod. "Yeah. See you Friday."

She nods back before turning and walking off with that Jake guy, who is waiting impatiently by the stairwell like my friends.

I sigh as I watch her go. _Friday_. That's two whole days away because today is only Wednesday (the class meets every other day).

"What was that?" Oliver says in a teasing manner as I approach, insanely glad Miley is out of earshot.

I roll my eyes. "Shut up."

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><p>I decide to just get takeout from the cafeteria and bring it back to my room to eat. As soon as I get into the dorm, though, I discover that it's freezing. I groan a little. My one problem with living with Joannie is that she <em>loves <em>to keep the room cold.

I put my foam food container on the couch before removing my bag.

I unzip the bag and pull out my jacket−_the_ jacket−from my bag, where I'd placed it before going to the cafeteria.

Like the weirdo I am, I bring it up to my nose and smell it. It smells like some sort of floral perfume. That must be what she smells like because I sure as heck don't smell like that. My body spray is vanilla.

I smile while slipping my arms into the sleeves. Then I grab my phone from the front pocket of my bag and attempt to put it into my left jacket pocket… Only to discover there's something in there already.

That's odd. I don't remember leaving anything in that pocket.

When I take it out, I find that it's a scrap of paper. And written across it is a handwriting I don't recognize.

_Thanks for the jacket, _it says. _You're cute. Call me sometime._

After that is a number, and it is signed _Miley._

A huge smile stretches across my face as my heart flutters happily. Is this real? Is it actually happening?

Yes, it is. Because I have the proof in my hand, plain as day.

I give the note a kiss as I flop down on my couch, that goofy smile still on my face.

Score one for Lilly.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed. I sure did. I miss writing Liley. Please leave a review. It's much appreciated.<strong>


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